There are some things in life that are automatically recognizable, archetypal even, that even with a variance of characteristics it remains identifiable. That somewhat disconnected passed through the still reeling mind of the man. The cause was the appearance and attire of the stranger greeting him. Put simply, the only way he could look more like a wizard was if he had a long beard and stars on the hems of his faded blue robe.

Now wizards are supposed to be the stuff of fiction and fantasy, but that hasn’t stopped people from wearing costumes. At the very least being alone could now be checked off the list of worries but hoping that the stranger wasn’t dangerous was added. Being a weirdo is fine, everyone is entitled to their eccentricities, just avoiding psychotic dismemberment is kinda nice. Maybe this is just stumbling on some type of live action role playing at renaissance faire?

The stranger moved, the shadows from the brim of his pointed hat revealing his face. Things were definitely on the weird side when eyes of the stranger met his. White orbs carefully watched, distinctly inhuman pupils like cloudy crystals floating in a sea of pale vellum. These eyes seemed to see more than just mundane matter, almost drawing in the very essences of the surroundings to record and catalogue the descriptions. Behind those eyes, far off in those crystalline windows something flashed among bookshelves.

“Hmm, a certain amount of Insight then. Tell me, is there anything wrong, and have you a name to call you?” The thought passed, and the man gritted his teeth saying to the stranger, "̴̲͆̑͐̀̈̿̑̓͊̌̚͜Ĭ̵̡̩͍̳͉͍̮̮͉̳̳̓̒̒́̌̒t̸̹̲̮̫̂̾̑͐̃͂͆̃̍͊͐̆̋̂ ̵̛͈̯͔͕̺̱̦̺̯̑͌̀̔̍͆̽̽h̵͚͙̪̦̻̫̦͉̼̎̀̾͋̊̕u̵̧̧̫͇̳̘̳̩͖͓̣͇͋͌͗̊̉̇́̓͝r̷̛̙̟̟̞̾̊̂͑͊̉̈̆̀̊̂͝t̴̢̛̛̳̫̪̪͉̙͙̼͓̹̔͒̑̆̀̂̇̈́͒͘s̴̖̱͙͖̫̗̈̽̎̍̑̌̿̀̈́͆͒̇̊͘͘ ̶̧͕̘̙͒͋̕t̴̡͍̰̻̲̻͔̣̉͗̂̒͛̈́̚͝ͅo̷̡̯͕̹͗̔̾̌͌̄͊̈ ̸̢̹̱̿͊̇̑́͒̕͝͝t̷̨͉̯͍̺͓͇͓͕͖̖̑̈́͋͆̓̀̾͊̚͠ͅa̵̞̞͒̓̾̾̈́̽́͘̚l̸̺̣̥̗̪̟͑̊̌͊͑͘ķ̶̨̥̗̜̙̫̦̫̯͖̙̜͌͋̍̚͝ ̴̲̍͛̾͊̍́͋͐͊̈́̈́̃̚͝͠ä̶̮̲̗̹͚͕̗̞͕́̒͜ͅb̸̨̟̣̗̬̺̘̻͊͐̾o̷̢̩͕͐́̏̀͛͊̈̏̕͘ų̶̛̝̖͎̣͙̮̼͕̻̤̰͆̃̋͜͜͝ͅt̶̛̜̺̪͋̄͛̅̀̔̍̓͝͝͝ ̴̡̰̯͈̳̣̊̉̒̎̆͐̉̄͋̑̓͆́̚͘͜õ̵̢̤͔̻͔̭̟̱͎̍̃̓̈͑̽̏̾͝n̴͈̪̪̪̹͍͖͚͚̓̎̓͘͠ͅͅé̶̦̘͓̱̦̮̗̳͇̹̹͖̝̞̤̃̓'̴̧̨̡͍̰̙͉̹̳͎̗̘̌̎͌̅̾͒̈́̕͜͝s̶̲̈́̔͋̄͋͋́̀͘̚̕͝ ̶̧̨̡̜̙̹̼̫̪̯̥̗̽̑̀͋̅̃̄̐̚͘͘͜s̶̼̯͈̹̳̬͂̄e̶̹̗̻̻͚͒͆̎͒̏̐l̵̡̧̹̻͖̼͎̳̻̻͓̬̜̖̥͐̏͝͝͠f̸̛͙̹͚̺̼̂̒̔̎͗̓̈͒͂̍̋̕͠ͅͅ.̷̞̗̦̫͈̗̗̗̄͊̈́"̷̨̡̼̮͙̮̙͇̱̳̋ͅ Placing hand on his brow, “Hold still for a moment,” the stranger said. “Yes, most intriguing. Mind magic is not my specialty, but I can say that no permanent damage will be dealt. For now, you shall be called Nameless for clarity’s sake. We do not have time for a more thorough examination, come we don’t have much time.”

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Nameless, did not have time to protest before the wizard physically lifted him from the ground pack, walking stick, and all. Fingers wrapped tightly into the black mane of the nearby horse as he was roughly place in his back with the words, “Hold on.” The wizard stepped up onto the horse behind him and he gently began to urge the horse to run. The gallop reached running speed before they started to accelerate past what a mortal horse should be able to accomplish. Things were continuing to move past highway speeds when it started to get, well, trippy… Nameless watched bug eyed as the blurred shapes started to overlap, and what he could only call a blue Doppler shift started.

Puking and falling off in this strange state started to become a real concern when the horse came to a sudden stop devoid of momentum. The wizard slid off, falling to his knees. “Forgive me, I was too late,” he said into the wind. The wind made no response. Nameless, swallowed back the bile rising in his throat, now for a different reason. The smoke he’d seen had been sign of a settlement, and there had been a disaster, just not a natural one. Sliding off the horse, he numbly looked at the destroyed village. A sense of deliberate inflicted suffering washed over him, signs of vindictive actions and a lack of noticeable looting made obvious that this was not part some military strategy. This only had served to throw people in the mud while inflicting as much pain possible. Nameless did vomit now, overwhelmed by it all.